


Of Mirrors, Narcissus and the Chesapeake Ripper

by Tamara_Black



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, broke!will, cause I hate the little Idjit xD, dark!Will, hope you guys like the OMC, it might get fluffy one in awhile... and smutty, it's all Hannibal's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamara_Black/pseuds/Tamara_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know how people say  there are at least 6 other persons who look just like you?, I didn't.<br/>I do now.<br/>My name is Will Graham, I am in a maximum-security cell in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, wrongly convicted for being the copycat killer, also being treated for Autoimmune Encephalitis and life just took a turn for the crazier, up to the point where it starts to look like a work of fiction</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mirrors, Narcissus and the Chesapeake Ripper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HannibalsFannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalsFannibal/gifts).



> Ok, fair Warnings and excuses... sort of  
> English is not my native language, so if you see a mixture of different kind of slang (brit, states and whatnot) it's because I can't seem to keep myself focused on just one. As for Grammar Mistakes and typos, I trust you my dear Grammar Nazis to step forward to correct me... use the riding crop if necessary  
> Graphic Depictions of violence, as in the canon...  
> I'll force some pornfood somewhere around, because of Hannibal, literally; and I'll follow Canon according the TV show, not the books or the movies, so please, if I make a mishap, don't eat me alive; I drink and smoke so I won't be any good, not even as stew.  
> On restrospective... this might also be AU-ish....  
> Gift for the most amazing girl in the world, HanninalsFannibal who is also a writer here at ao3, go read her story "let us scape" (cofcofshamlesspropagandacofcof), and She is the Hannibal to my Will <3
> 
> oh! and important, this story follows all the events of season 1, so this fic would actually be how my extremely convoluted mind wishes season two to go around.
> 
> Male/Male Relationship, if you don't like, please stop right here right now and don't waste your time hurting your sensibilities  
> Disclaimer: am I Mr. Fuller or Mr Harris; nor part of NBC/AXN productions?. NO, I am a 20 something year old, still living with her folks and studying to be a biochemist, hence… Nothing being Part of Hannibal’s canon belongs to me.
> 
> So yeah, after years of not writing shit, I throw myself to the Stag with this one, hope you people like it.

To say that Alana Bloom was feeling frustrated would be the understatement of the year. It was 6 months since Will's imprisonment, and every effort she had made to find a decent lawyer to appeal for his case was for naught; there was none who dared to try and prove that all those murders, the copycat's, where due to the empath's (at that moment) untreated encephalitis.

She had run out of options, old friends, acquaintances, friends of friends and contact's of Jack Crawford's forensic team, all of them said no, all of them said _"the evidence is too strong to try and work anything against it, even with the current prognosis of his health"_. She had none else to turn to... well, there was someone, but she still felt so angry, so betrayed of how _He_ failed to help William; then again, so did she, spectacularly so. She would have to call him, she would have to call Hannibal.

####  *~*~*

 

The last of his morning patients was leaving the office when the phone rang. He sits down on his desk and answers the call.

\- Dr. Lecter's office, how may I help you?

\- Hello Hannibal, It's me

Well, this was a surprise, a really big one that he let to be shown on his velvet like voice.

\- Alana, it's been a long time, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?

Oh, he had missed her, he really did, and he could just feel  her fidgeting over the phone, a mix of embarrassment, broken pride and just a dash of desperation.

\- I know I have been nothing but terribly rude to you this last few months... it's just that, I still feel so angry at you for not noticing before...

Ahh, yes this little one was still upset about how he _"couldn't help Will"_ , poor Will, locked up in the asylum in his place; poor Will, paying for _his_ crimes; poor Will, who finally understood who Hannibal really was, saw him and looked at him like he had finally found the answer to his question:

 

_"Are you a killer, Will?, right here, right now, this man in front of me... Are you a killer?"_

 

Hannibal smiled

-... but I was not better either, I could have, and I wasn't, and I just can't fail Will again...I know I have no right to ask anything of you, Hannibal, not from I how I have turned my back on you, but I don't know whom else to go to.

\- Alana, if there is anything in my power to right my wrongs to your trust, and of course, anything to help our good Will, you can tell me- he says, voice contrite, full of sentiment. He is not lying, he is perfectly aware of what is it going to be the young woman's plea, and he wants to help, he wants William out because this lasts months have been so… quiet. And he is _curious_ , oh very much so. What would Will do if he were to be free again?, would he try to prove that Hannibal is actually the chesapeake ripper? or he would just throw himself in the longing arms of his own darkness and revenge?

\- Do you know any good, capable lawyer who would be willing to take Will’s case?

He sits a bit straighter on his chair, smile growing wider, maroon eyes gleaming with glee.

\- I must have one or two, give me the afternoon to look around… would you be agreeable to discuss them over dinner at my house tonight?

Alana, beautiful girl, so transparent that he can hear her thoughts racing even if they are miles away.

-... yes, is it 7 pm good for you?

\- Absolutely

\- Then I’ll see you at your place tonight at 7 pm

\- I’ll be waiting, goodbye Alana

\- Goodbye… Hannibal?  
\- yes?

\- Thank you

The next thing Hannibal hears, is the hang up tone of the line.

 

####  *~*~*

 

To say that Jack Crawford was having a bad day, was something none was really sure of. The man walked around life with a permanent scowl on his face by default, and it was no secret that his wife was slowly dying of cancer; it didn’t help matters the whole ordeal of Will Graham ( _his chinese porcelain cup_ ) actually being the copycat killer, robbing every ounce of credibility from him and his team. There even was a pool bet on the whole of Quantico with crazier reasons as to why the higher ups haven't had given him the axe yet. All this little things made it hard to know if he was really having or not a bad day.

As it turns out, he wasn’t.

Up until he did.

He should have notice that something was amiss when the door to his office just opened with no need to unlock it, when he knew he _had_ locked it up before going out to lunch with his wife. Another clue he let go unnoticed, was the sweet, metallic tang that filled his nostrils as soon as the door opened; however, there was no way for him to miss the perfectly staged deer head, antlers and all in the middle of his office, or the impaled girl on it, blood dripping from her body, wetting his floor. And most definitely, hell was going to freeze over if he missed the gigantic scarlet red letters adorning his wall:

 

_"Gift wrapped, remember uncle Jack?"_

 

As his blood started to boil under his dark skin, his cell phone chimed, warning him of a new text message.

 

_"It is terribly rude to abandon your favourite cup just because it got chipped, ask Hannibal if you don't believe me_

_Regards_

_The copycat killer"_

 

To say that half of the building in Quantico  was absolutely certain that Jack Crawford was having a bad day would be an understatement, especially  when his rough voice boomed with rage through the building hallways .

 

\- PRICE! ZELLER! KATZ! Bring your asses  to my office, the security tape too and explain to me WHY  in the name of god is there a cadaver messing up my floor.

 

He stares at the screen on his cellphone again, and throws it against the wall on a raging fit.

\- And get me Lecter, he has some explaining of his own to do.

 

_*~*~*_

 

To say that Doctor Lecter's day so far had been full of surprises,  would be nothing but the complete truth. First, there was Alana's call before lunch; then discovering (upon preparing lunch) that his meat stock was running low, so he would have to go hunting soon; and not five minutes after doing the dishes and settling to go back to work, the clipped call from that girl... Beverly was her name?, from agent Crawford's forensic team telling him that he had to _"get to Quantico asap, cause a body was found staged on Jack's office, like the first victim of the copycat killer, and there was a message with his name on it"_. But what really, really made the statement  a complete axiom, was the little, carefully wrapped  present on his desk.

It had a note  attached, typed, not handwritten.

 

_"I am who you think I am, and yet I am not._

_Bon appetite!_

_The copycat killer"_

 

Hannibal smiled, again, twice on a day.

Was it possible? Had he really won and broke good Will , poor Will this much?

Glory, he tasted glory in the air when he carefully opened the package and was greeted by a finely butchered pair of lungs ...  Perhaps he would cook them tonight for his dinner date with Alana, or so he was thinking when he remembered the call (l _ike the first victim of the copycat killer_ ). Ahh, a shame: The lungs were probably evidence.

 

He re-wrapped them again and left the note inside a drawer on his desk. What Jack didn't know, didn't hurt him.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter made the pertinent calls to his afternoon and evening patients, excusing himself for being unable to  keep their arranged  appointments for today and rescheduling them. Once done, he took the lungs, got into his car and drove away to Quantico.

 

_*~*~*_

 

To say that William Graham was to blame for all the crazy little things depicted above would be a blatant lie. To even suggest the he at least has an idea of anything happening right now outside of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, is laughable at best.

He was sitting on his bed, eyes locked staring at the opposite wall of his cell, revising every murder  of the copycat killer... _Every murder Hannibal pinned on me_ , he thought bitterly, soul  screaming and bleeding still for the treason of someone he had started to connect with...

So immerse on his own  pain filled musings was the empath, that he had missed how someone was calling out for him outside the glass door of his cell.

 

Up until he didn't, because said person kicked the wall, startling  young Will.

\- sorry, that was rude, but I needed you back on the land of the living.- said a familiar voice, with an unfamiliar accent, mischief all over it.

Ex special agent William Graham was wondering when did they change the glass door for a mirror, when he realized  that he was still sitting on his bed while his reflection, all curls and civilian clothes like he used to wear,  was on the hallway outside his cell.

He groaned

\- I really hoped that now that I was treating my encephalitis the hallucinations would end.

His reflection laughed

\- This is no hallucination , graham ol' boy, I can assure you, but the time is limited and I just bring you a message of hope, my little mirror.

Will gets up and puts himself in level with his reflection, smirk on his face, and head tilted in mock curiosity

\- There have been people who have been nothing but entirely and shockingly mean with you and have hurt you in many ways... It is time for them to pay; with tears, blood and interest, of course. Just relax, I'll  take care of everything.

Will snorts

-Oh so I just have to sit, watch and relax?

\- yes, you do...- his reflection eyes him for a second before frowning and pouting at him- You still don't believe me to be real?

\- Nope

\- have you ever heard that all over the world, there are at least six other persons who look just like you, no blood relations whatsoever?

\- no, no I haven't- oh he was starting to like this hallucination .

-now you have... And I must take my leave...see?, see? This all depends on none knowing about me up until the right moment.

Graham laughed openly, as he had not done in practically six months... He was totally rooting for this hallucination.

\- ok, ok, lets say I bite... What's your name then?

His reflection smiles big, wide and all teeth, like a cheshire cat

\- Uilleam Greumach, to serve you.

The little fucker makes a bow, and leaves whistling what seems to be mozart's Dies Irae

 

Now I bet you wonder what does our dear, wrongly convicted empath does next?

He goes to his bed, sits and stares at the wall, tiny smirk clinging to his face and thinks.

 

What about? you ask... more like _Whom about_...

Well... a certain ol' shrink of him, that goes by Hannibal, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and what possible mishap could he have done while preparing the setup that brought him to this current predicament of his; where he knows nothing of the crazy little things that have been happening in the lives of old friends outside the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, because the sole idea of that is laughable at best and blatant lie.

  
Tbc

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to Loki this was going to be a one shot, but my mind wouldn't have any of that... so yeah.. this is a WIP... but not to worry, trust HannibalsFannibal to kick me on the proverbial balls to keep this one going and not let it get swayed away on the ocean of my mind, since this was all prompted by her drawing, her general idea of identical people and our baby Uil, Whom I won't tell you how was he born or I'll make a huge Spoiler on the story... (he he)  
> you like it? tell me  
> you didn't? tell me  
> wanna throw me some rotten tomatoes... you might want to try and find me first  
> Kudos and comments will make me Happy, the little assbutt of Uil more insufferable and will bring Willy-boy and Hannibear closer to die by snus nu.  
> Regards!  
> Tamara Black  
> P.S: I was going to leave this on a cliffie, but I hate when someone (coughhannibalsfannibal) does that to me... although it isn't worse than falling asleep while roleplaying smut.. right? (yeah, told you I was never letting that one go xD)


End file.
